Paying His Debt Read online

  Freya was looking anywhere but at me. “You must know I don’t have that kind of money,” she bit out. “I don’t have any kind of money. I’m barely getting by as it is with repaying my student loans!”

  “Look at me.”

  Freya shook her head; I hauled her in just a little bit closer, bending her down until I barely had to tilt my head up to stare at her. “Look at me,” I repeated.

  For a few seconds I thought she would refuse. But then, so slowly it almost seemed as if it physically hurt her to do so, Freya turned her head.

  Face-to-face for the first time, and what a situation to be in.

  “I don’t have the money to pay off Tate’s debt,” Freya repeated. Her eyes were surprisingly fiery. I had to wonder how she’d been hiding this part of her for so long behind a demure, timid mask.

  “I heard you the first time,” I said, allowing my eyes to wander freely across Freya’s body.

  “Why do you—why do you keep looking at me like that?”

  “Am I not allowed?”

  “I’m not…used to it. Being looked at that way.”

  “It would be rather unsettling if the kids you teach looked at you like this.”

  It was a joke, of course, and under any other circumstance Freya might have laughed. But she didn’t; instead, she gulped and bent down a little lower.

  “If I don’t have any money, how else can I pay off the debt?”

  “I have a feeling you’ve clocked on that there are…other ways.”

  Freya gulped. “I don’t—I don’t want to be a prosti—”

  “Oh my fucking god, no!” I exclaimed, outraged. “Why did you come to that conclusion?”

  “You’re a gangster!”

  “I’m hitting on you and you think I want to sell you off to some overweight, middle-aged loser on the street?”

  Freya blinked, stunned by the comment. “So…I…you want me?”

  “Two months. Give me all your time for two months. Give me…everything,” I murmured, not entirely sure where the words were coming from. But I meant each word down to my very soul. Or cock. Their interests were currently aligned.

  Freya bit her lip. “You’re not messing with me, are you? This isn’t some mind game you’re going to play with me where you still demand the money to pay off my brother’s debt at the end?”

  I made a cross over my heart. “I’m not messing with you, I swear.”

  Freya seemed to consider my request. A frown creased her brow; I could practically see the cogs in her brain working away. “My brother will be left alone? He won’t be harmed?”

  “Nobody in my family will touch a hair upon Tate’s head, yes.”

  “And you won’t ask me to do anything…weird?”

  “That entirely depends on what you mean by ‘weird’,” I replied, letting the insinuation hang heavy between us.

  Freya fidgeted on the spot, rubbing my knee between her legs in the process. I wondered if she was aware of what she was doing. She must have been, surely.

  “Um, then there’s just…there’s just one thing you need to know before we—ah—do anything,” she mumbled, embarrassed.

  I cocked an eyebrow. “And that would be?”

  She looked away. “I’m a virgin.”

  Oh, shit.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  “Not a problem for me,” I said, before dragging Freya down onto the sofa and crushing my lips against hers.

  Chapter Three

  Freya

  I couldn’t believe where my Friday night had gone. In the space of fifteen minutes I’d gone from drying my hair and lamenting my lack of wine, to being overjoyed about hearing from my brother, to being terrified by the trouble he’s in at the expense of the Patera family, to being…

  Underneath Jackson Patera on my sofa.

  If my brain hadn’t been going into overdrive I might have clocked onto the fact that my Chinese food was late. As it stood, I couldn’t possibly care.

  Jackson Patera’s lips were on mine, wet and hot and demanding that I open my mouth to let his tongue in. He ran a hand through my hair, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss further as he pressed the full weight of his body on top of me.

  There was no mistaking the distinct hardness I felt against my leg as anything other than what it was.

  I struggled to snatch a breath before Jackson continued his onslaught against my mouth. The hand in my hair had crept down to my neck to my chest; he began to stroke my nipples through my camisole.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, breaking away from my lips long enough to gaze at me in disbelief. “How are you a virgin, Freya? How can a woman with a body like this have gotten to her mid-twenties without being touched?”

  And that was the thing: I didn’t really know. But what I did know was that I was most certainly not going to be keeping hold of my virginity for much longer. Here and now, at twenty-three years old, having not prepared for it at all, with a guy I barely knew—who terrified me—to help repay my brother’s gambling debt, I was going to lose it. And I was…okay with that.

  Just who the hell was this version of Freya Grace? She certainly wasn’t a person I was familiar with. She’d just agreed to a deal that, a few hours ago, I’d never have taken…nor hoped for.

  Because that was the part that was freaking me out; when Jackson suggested there were other ways for me to pay off my brother’s debt I had kind of, sort of, hoped that he wanted me. But I couldn’t believe he actually did, even with the hungry way he’d looked at me from the moment I opened my front door.

  “I’m shy,” I breathed, in response to Jackson’s question.

  His lips quirked at the obvious answer. “What a revelation. But even so…”

  When Jackson moved his head downwards to suck on one of my nipples through the fabric of my top I gasped. I’d never had a person’s mouth on my like this before. It felt strange. Exciting. Maybe it was because it was my first time. Maybe it was because Jackson Patera was terrifying, and basically extorting me.

  But I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t hot as hell and pretty charming, now that I’d actually looked at him properly and had a real conversation. What had shocked me the most was that, despite his blonde hair, Jackson’s eyes weren’t green or blue. They were chocolate brown, and framed by long, thick lashes I desperately wanted to feel fluttering against my cheek.

  Not to mention the fact that his expensive suit clung to him in all the right places, though now I was imagining it on the floor. Was all that my late-blooming sexual awakening needed really just a healthy dose of fear?

  Apparently so—I was hot and wet between my thighs, and all I’d done was kiss the man in front of me.

  “Where is your head, Freya?” Jackson asked, eyes glittering intently in the sunset as it streaked across the room. The fabric of my top was damp where his mouth had been sucking on my nipple; I ached for him to remove my clothing altogether and do it again.

  Jackson caught my wandering eyes with a sly smile. He flicked his tongue against my nipple once more, smiling wider when he felt me shiver beneath him.

  “There’s no point in taking things too quickly when it’s your first time,” he murmured, though he roamed a hand down across my hip and achingly close to that hot, hungry part of me between my thighs. Jackson glanced at me. “Tell me, do you touch yourself? I can’t imagine prim and proper Miss Grace moaning and shuddering as she makes herself come.”

  The way Jackson grinned suggested he very much had imagined it. My insides coiled and twisted beneath my stomach, though it wasn’t unpleasant.

  “I…haven’t,” I replied, very quietly. “I don’t really know how.”

  Jackson seemed surprised. “You were never curious enough to find out what touching this could feel like?” he asked, and as he spoke the words he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of my shorts and stroked my clit. Once. Twice. Three times.

  “Oh my—oh,” I bit out, as Jackson continued his very slow but assured assault again
st me. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before. He knew exactly how to touch me.

  “Do you like that, Freya?” he murmured, knowing that I did. Jackson was completely unraveling me—all with a single finger. How was it that he was still fully clothed and composed? I felt like I was going to melt away.

  When my hands reached for his tie and pulled him back to my lips I surprised even myself. But Jackson eagerly reciprocated the kiss, and his finger only moved faster against my clit in response. When he slipped not one but two of them inside me I moaned.

  “God, you’re so sexy,” he growled against my mouth—a sound which I, in turn, thought was perhaps the sexiest thing I’d ever heard. I slid a hand around to the back of Jackson’s neck, pushing him closer to me.

  His cock was rubbing against me, even through his pants leg. I wanted it in me. I’d never wanted something so much in all my life.

  “Mister Patera,” I began, but Jackson interrupted my sentence by sliding another finger inside me until I cried out.

  “Jackson,” he replied. “Call me Jackson.”

  “Jackson,” I panted, enjoying the way his name sounded on my tongue, “I don’t want—want to take things slowly. I want—”

  “What you want can wait until I’ve gotten what I want,” he cut in, grinning mischievously as he picked up the pace against my clit. In the span of fifteen seconds I was writhing and whining beneath him. I thought I might pass out. But then—

  Then an overwhelming surge of pleasure rolled over me, and I clenched my thighs around Jackson’s hand in response. He watched intently as the first orgasm I’d ever experienced hit me like a ton of bricks. I wanted him to look away; I felt entirely too self-conscious. But when I tried to avert my eyes Jackson held my head in place with a hand on my chin.

  He kissed me softly. “Don’t look away. I want you to keep your eyes on me.”

  Considering I spent most of my time trying to avoid such direct interactions with other adults—especially tall, intimidating men in expensive suits whose surnames are Patera—Jackson’s demand was difficult for me to obey.

  But I did. I fought my urge to look away and kept my eyes on his.

  The doorbell rang.

  Jackson frowned, glancing at the door then back at me. “Expecting company?”

  “Only in the form of food,” I admitted, just as my stomach let out a mortifying growl, reminding me of how starving I am.

  Jackson laughed at the sound. “I guess I’ll get that for you, given your current…state.”

  A furious blush spread across my face, which only caused Jackson to laugh harder before brushing himself off and walking to the door. I wondered how he was going to hide the very obvious erection he had—or if he was going to bother trying to hide it at all. I somehow doubted a delivery boy would have the guts to call him out on it.

  I scrambled into an upright position and attempted to smooth my hair down. Feeling entirely out of sorts, I rushed to the bathroom and pulled down my shorts, where a hot, sticky mess was waiting for me. I cleaned it up as best I could, dragged a comb through my hair, slapped my red-hot cheeks a few times in front of the mirror, then headed back to the living room.

  Jackson was sitting on the floor by the coffee table, happily helping himself to a pork rib and some prawn crackers. He tilted his head towards the kitchen. “Don’t suppose you have any wine?”

  Dumbfounded by him acting as if we’d been together as a real couple for years, I shook my head. “All out, unfortunately.”

  “We’ll have to change that next time.”

  “Are you…stopping for dinner?” I asked, confused. “Are you not wanting to continue—”

  Jackson waved my question off. “I can wait. Your stomach can’t. Oh, god, these ribs are good. You should have ordered another portion.”

  “I wasn’t aware I was going to have company,” I replied, raising an eyebrow. A little hesitantly I sat beside him on the floor, before eagerly digging into a rib myself. Jackson was right; they were good.

  The next hour passed by with startling ease. We polished off the food far too quickly, then Jackson scrolled through the limited channels on my television before picking some inane gameshow to watch. We had so much fun arguing over the answers that I forgot entirely about how I had always been scared of the man, or about how he basically owned me for two months in order to pay off a debt.

  When it hit nine o’clock Jackson yawned, stood up and headed towards the door.

  “I better be off,” he said. “I have some more business to attend to tonight that can’t wait.”

  I followed him to the door, surprise plain as day across my face. “You’re really not staying?”

  His expression was amused. “Are you disappointed, Miss Grace? What would the kids think, hearing that their favorite teacher is horny and impatient?”

  I knew he’d meant it teasingly, but it was true. I looked down at my feet. “So…how will this work between us?”

  “I’m away with my brother from tomorrow on business—we won’t be back until next week. How about I call you when I get back?”

  My eyes shot up. “You don’t have my number, though.”

  “Trust me, I have it,” Jackson chuckled. He opened the front door. “I’ve had it ever since you started working at my nephew’s kindergarten. See you next week.”

  “Wait, what?!” I cried out, but Jackson merely grinned and headed out to his car. Only after he got inside it, revved up the engine and drove away did I close my front door, sliding down against it until my knees hit the floor.

  Something told me I’d need the entire time Jackson Patera was away just to process what had happened this evening.

  Chapter Four

  Jackson

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Patera, but your father will be just another few minutes longer. Please wait out here for him.”

  “No pause from work even for his son,” I joked, “or, rather, even for his son who has come to discuss work matters. Typical dad.”

  My father’s assistant said nothing in response, merely inclining her head politely towards a finely made Italian leather sofa that overlooked the expansive gardens of the Patera family home. The entire house and its grounds were lavish and beautiful. I knew I’d been spoiled by it growing up. Knew that it was a life I’d always have, and that I’d want for nothing.

  So why was it that what I wanted was to laze about on Freya Grace’s worn-out sofa, eating Chinese take-out food and trying hard not to openly stare at her nipples peeking through her camisole?

  I can’t believe I didn’t fuck her. I can’t believe I left her damn apartment having barely felt her beneath me at all.

  I could still feel Freya’s lips on mine, though almost a week had passed since I’d kissed her. The memory was seared to my brain in a way no kiss had ever been before. It had made my business trip with Luca, my brother, absolute torture. All I could think about was the way Freya reacted to my touch.

  How she curved her body against mine.

  How she reached for me with trembling hands.

  How she shuddered and moaned when I made her come.

  And a virgin! I thought, not for the first time. I still couldn’t believe it. Freya might have been shy, and worn conservative clothes, and avoided contact with people she didn’t know, but how was it that a woman like her had gone through college without even one sexual encounter?

  It baffled me. But, then again, my brother and I had been fooling around with girls since we were fourteen. My idea of sex and Freya’s idea of sex were likely different. It had always been casual for me.

  But not with her.

  I was reaching thirty-five and getting tired of the way I lived my life. I always thought I’d ‘grow up’ when I took over as the head of the Patera family. Now I couldn’t help but feel like an idiot, arbitrarily waiting for something out with my control to ‘make’ me an adult. Freya was already miles more mature than I was, and she was twelve years my junior!

  It was evident from th
e way she worked in the kindergarten, and the way she spoke about her brother and accepted that she had to support him. I’d seen countless family members scream at me that they weren’t responsible for what their son or wife or brother had done, despite the fact they were supposed to love them.

  Well, finding out someone close to you has accrued massive debt or has been involved in highly illegal activities is hardly the nicest thing in the world to learn, I supposed. Yet still Freya was different, for though she was evidently frightened and upset by the news I’d landed in her lap, she’d accepted it with the same kind of patience that made her an excellent kindergarten teacher.

  If only I’d had her kind of discipline growing up. I might have become less frivolous.

  “Mister Patera, your father will see you now,” his assistant announced, breaking me out of my endless cycle of thoughts about Freya Grace.

  “Thanks,” I replied, smiling slightly before entering my father’s office.

  The office was well-lit by virtue of the south-facing wall being made entirely of glass, overlooking the garden. Raphael Patera loved the garden; it reminded him on my mom, who passed away two years ago. My little nephew was named after him, and was suitably doted upon by his grandfather. Rafe was the only child in the entire family, after all, despite my father’s continued requests that I settle down.

  But he wanted me to settle down with somebody he approved of and continue the family ‘business’. The older I got, the less I wanted either.

  “Jackson,” my father murmured, “how was New York with your brother?”

  “Uneventful but productive,” I replied, before settling down in a very expensive arm chair in front of his broad, Cherrywood desk. It was probably more expensive than Freya’s entire flat, yet somehow it was less comfortable than the floor of her living room, eating Chinese spare ribs.

  My father rested his chin upon his steepled fingers. “You seem distracted.”